


Waiting for the hunter and the wolf

by InkyElster (IdeenElster)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent Lives, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdeenElster/pseuds/InkyElster
Summary: Stiles was seven and he was scared.He'd killed Allison.No. He was seven, he'd never killed anyone and then suddenly, from one moment to the next, he wasn't alone anymore. The wolves fell silent.





	Waiting for the hunter and the wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Just something in between. This story has been catching dust on my harddrive for month now! >:( *wishes she could write longer things*

Stiles was seven and he was scared. The forest stretched out dark in all directions, crowns so thick with clustered leaves that no moonlight reached the ground. A low voice in the back of his mind tried to get his attention. Wasn't he supposed to be taller? But no, he was seven and small and frightened, all alone in this forest with wolves howling in the darkness.

The wolves couldn't reach him. He deserved to be alone. 

He'd killed Allison.

No. He was _seven_ , he'd never killed anyone and then suddenly, from one moment to the next, he wasn't alone anymore. The wolves fell silent.

"Stiles, come here."

His mom! He knew that voice, knew that he'd heard it just the day before and that it had been years since he had heard it last, but none of that mattered now. His mom was going to protect him. She was going to make it all better. He'd missed her so much.

"Mom?" Stiles whimpered into the darkness, looking around into the shadows of the trees. They seemed to move, shrinking and growing like the tide. His own voice sounded tiny, getting lost among them. He _was_ tiny. Then he saw a glimpse of her and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Come here. You're safe with me, Stiles," his mother murmured soothingly, spreading her arms for him, smiling.

_Something was wrong._

No!

It was just his mother. He'd be safe with her. No one could hurt him when he was with her and he couldn't hurt anyone either.

"Come on, Stiles. We're going to be late," his mother said more urgently now. She beckoned to him, frowning a little when he didn't move right away. Maybe she was worried, too, because of the shadows and the wolves.

"Late for what? Mom?" Stiles asked, moving towards her and cowering away from the shadows reaching for him. Only his mother was safe.

"Just give me your hand." Now his mother was in front of him, smiling at him through the fog that permeated the forest. She reached out her hand and Stiles took it gladly. From behind him came a wolf's howl, but it was distant like in a dream.

Stiles shuddered. His mother looked over his shoulder, but Stiles couldn't see her face with his own buried into her belly as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Ignore them. The big bad wolf can't get you here," his mother said, stroking his back before she took a step away from him, taking his hand once more into hers.

Stiles was so tired he let his mother pull him along until they came to a house. It looked at once like his home and nothing like it at all, but he didn't find it in him to worry about that. Everything was already so strange, but the important thing was his mother being with him. With her he'd be safe. They stopped in front of the door. And suddenly a familiar voice yelled gibberish behind him, drawing an angry shriek out of his mother who suddenly didn't look like her in the slightest.

Stiles woke up.

Below him yawned an abyss with white-topped waves crashing against the bottom of the cliff he was standing on. He couldn't breathe, chest seizing, and he took a toppling step _forward_ as he gasped. Then, just as suddenly, strong arms encircled him from behind and yanked him backwards just as Allison slashed at the air with a sword, part of the family collection no doubt. In a distant corner of his mind, Stiles had just enough strength to wonder how he hadn't noticed _that_ being part of her luggage for this little pack trip of theirs, but then another shriek made Stiles flinch and he tried to curl into himself with the arms in the way around him. They hit the ground.

"I got you," Isaac shouted right into his ear.

Isaac! Isaac was here and Allison, just the other night he'd snuck into their room. He never stayed, but there were just things you couldn't keep secret from werewolves and kitsunes and Lydia Martin. Stiles gasped for breath as if he'd been drowning, mind fighting upwards through the fog.

"What-" He was more than just a little short of breath, his lungs refused to expand at all. Twenty years they'd done their job mostly without complaining and now they tried to pretend they didn't know how all that oxygen-business worked.

"Ghost got you," Isaac told him, panic sneaking over his face when he got a closer look at Stiles. Great. That was always an expression Stiles hoped to see on his fuck buddies.

Stiles' chest seized again, and Isaac picked him up as if he weighted _nothing_ , pulled him farther away while Allison slashed the air again and again, concentration on her face as she hacked at a shimmering form.

"Breathe, Stiles!" Isaac ordered, as if Stiles wasn't already goddamn trying. Dying wasn't part of his daily agenda.

Nevertheless, Stiles tried harder to concentrate, to get more shuddering breaths in and out and in and out with Isaac guiding him through it. Meanwhile, the ghost died with an agonized shriek somewhere outside of his periphery, echoed by half a dozen others and then Allison was beside him, too, grasping his hand.

"Stiles? Stiles, talk to me."

Stiles shook his head. "Can't. Need to breathe."

Allison squeezed his fingers and curled an arm around him, too, criss-crossed on his back with Isaac's. At any other times he would have hated the big exaggerated breathing she did at him, but right now he was rather glad for it as she and Isaac got into a rhythm he could focus on. He was rather glad for her sword, too. Goddamn hunters and their swords. Goddamn ghosts that had picked Stiles for a target. 

"Where- where are the others?" Stiles stuttered out, when he could finally get air into his lungs again.

Allison jerked her head towards where their hotel was, looming kind of creepily out of the darkness between a couple of trees, but then again, they had picked it for that exact reason. "They're inside. Yours wasn't the only ghost."

Isaac nodded against his shoulder.

Stiles slapped the next best flat surface, which turned out to be Isaac's belly. Isaac had the decency to grunt, even if there was no way in hell that had hurt him. Stiles was too livid to care anyway. "I told you it was haunted!" he said sharply.

He could practically _feel_ Isaac roll his eyes.

"Yes, alright? You were right," Isaac allowed but he didn't sound happy about it.

"I told you so! And you can let go of me now, I'm fine, really," Stiles said and tried to pull his hands away which predictably didn't work.

Allison looked down at his hand in hers, at the way it still trembled. "No, you're not," she said. Her face was gentle. Stiles hated it. Of all people she shouldn't look at him like that.

"No one expects you to," she added quietly.

"No one expects you to, either," Stiles shot back, hitting where it hurt when her face shuttered. Isaac's hand slid over his back and then up to squeeze her hand against Stiles' shirt.

"We should get back inside," Isaac interrupted them, ever the peace-maker if he wasn't being a little shit himself.

Stiles snorted. "Back into the haunted hotel?"

"The others took care of the ghosts, but we'll salt the doors and windows just in case," Allison said soothingly. Right. Of course, they would.

Stiles nodded, suddenly tired enough he could have fallen asleep on his feet. His whole life had turned into an episode of Supernatural, but at least they hadn't met any demons, yet. Or angels. The others steadied him, and he didn't even have the strength to argue when they kept hold of a hand each as they led him back to the hotel like a small child. What a fucked-up vacation. Just once he wanted to go to the beach or someplace else with no creatures attacking any of them.

Something inside of him loosened when he saw the others, all of them safe and sound. They exchanged a few words, but Stiles was too tired to pay much attention, finding himself leaning on Isaac instead, while Allison wrapped an arm around Stiles' middle.

Distantly, Stiles was aware that Scott clapped him on the shoulder, face sympathetic and Derek nodded at him, eyes dark and worried. Everyone looked worried and Stiles stared at the floor unable to meet their eyes. Fortunately, Allison and Isaac wasted no time before they herded him away and to his room. Stiles sighed when the door fell closed behind them.

"Aren't you supposed to get back to your room?" Stiles asked, mind catching up and pointing out that they didn't do the 'sleeping through the night together' kind of thing and Allison smiled.

"We're not doing that now. Get into bed," she said as if she'd read his mind, which wasn't the case. Probably. 

Isaac prodded him in the back and kept a hold on him as he crawled in without even a token protest and then Allison followed them until Stiles was sandwiched between them both.

"My feet are wet," Stiles complained. A moment later Isaac's leg pressed against them and the werewolf let out a hiss. 

"And they're fucking cold, too," he yelped. Then he sobered and moved to nuzzle Stiles' neck. "We're with you, whether you like it or not," Isaac told him, voice muffled by Stiles' skin. He could bitch with the best of them, but when he was in bed he turned into a giant puppy.

Allison squeezed his side and added, "We won't stop until you believe us."

Stiles felt as if there was a second conversation happening that he had missed the beginning off, but he just nodded. His expression twisted into a mask of disbelief until Allison leaned in to kiss him and Isaac nuzzled the side of his neck, again. Something lighted in his chest. He burrowed deeper into the blanket.

"You shouldn't do this. Not you," Stiles murmured. Neither of them should be in bed with him, promising him that they'd stare. The Nogitsune had turned him into a killer, and he'd liked it, somewhere deep down.

 _Not the one I almost killed_.

Allison tapped him on the shoulder. "It's not your choice what I'm doing, Stiles. I've forgiven you."

Stiles grimaced. "But not forgotten."

Allison ducked her head and Stiles pressed a hand to her chest before she could, covering the scar he knew lay under her clothes. It wasn't the only scar adorning her body, but that one had been his fault. "No, I guess I won't ever forget, but you're not the Nogitsune."

Isaac pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "It's gone and you're here. We can do this."

Stiles huffed. "Alright, fine! Guess I'm outnumbered."

Allison grinned and Stiles felt Isaac's teeth against the nape of his head.

"Yes, you are. So, shut up and go to sleep already," Isaac said.

Stiles relaxed gradually, snuggling back into Isaac's form and breathing in the scent of Allison's favourite shampoo as she curled into his front.

Then he fell asleep and dreamed of them.

 


End file.
